


The Last Time

by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kinda), Abusive Naomi (Supernatural), Aftermath of Violence, Against all odds, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bigotry & Prejudice, Caring Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Falling in Love, Castiel's Family Being Assholes (Supernatural), Chef Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Dean Winchester to the Rescue, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loving Dean Winchester, Loving Sex, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Openly Gay Dean Winchester, POV Dean, POV Dean Winchester, Pierced Castiel (Supernatural), Poor Castiel (Supernatural), Prostitute Castiel (Supernatural), Prostitution, Protective Dean Winchester, Runaway Castiel (Supernatural), Secret Castiel/Dean Winchester, Secret Relationship, Sex Work, Sex Worker Castiel (Supernatural), Subjugation, Tattooed Castiel (Supernatural), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/pseuds/all-or-nothing-baby
Summary: Hey, baby. Wanna spend the night with an angel?No such thing,Dean had tried. But it had come out as a question, a challenge. An almostProve me wrong... please?And with a smile which he couldn't have helped if he'd tried.The man—dressed in a long coat, black boots and tight jeans; dark kohl around blue eyes and an eight o'clock shadow Dean instantly craved to leave a tingle on his inside thighs—had smiled back and said,That's your problem, beautiful. You have no faith.By the time Dean had left the No-Tell room later that night—leftJimmy,as he'd called himself back then—Dean was born again. His belief was now so strong, he'd gone back to his apartment and goddammit he'dprayed.ORHurt/Comfort Modern Sex Worker AU where maybe fate and free will can exist side by side...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvidBkWrm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidBkWrm/gifts).



> Written for a prompt-fill on Tumblr for the lovely, lovely Spencer. It's had a teensy edit since then but is still very much the same piece.
> 
> The prompt was, "Coming Home".

Getting back to his shitty apartment afterwards was always the worst part. It wasn't the peeling wallpaper that bothered Dean. He didn't care that there were only bare floorboards splashed with spilt paint in the bathroom. Couldn’t even give a shit about the wet-rot in the corner above the sofa, or the fact it was probably the cause of his perpetual cough. And yeah, okay, so he knew the fuck-ton of weed he smoked, on top of the booze, didn’t exactly help. And no, it didn’t exactly make him forget, either. It did, however, help him to give less of a shit about how shitty he felt. Ultimately though, it was how utterly desolate he was in the afterwards that Dean hated so much.

...until the next time.

Cas was a drug. Dean had known from the start, that he shouldn’t get involved. Known he’d end up losing people too if he did. _And he had_. But fuck, after that first time? He was hooked. An instant junkie. Now, he was so far fucking gone it was scary because being with Cas was better than anything Dean had ever had. And whenever he wasn’t tangled up in sheets and wry smiles—sticky, body singing, with him—Dean was in hell. Screaming, silently. And it hit hardest right after being with him, that incessant craving unbearable... still tasting his sharp citrusy taste; smelling of bubble gum and baby wipes, just like him; staring up at the ceiling, running rough fingertips over the pink and tender places Cas had made Dean his.

Yeah, Cas was the drug Dean didn’t know how to quit. And Jesus, he didn’t _want_ to, which was worse. Yet still, at first, he'd swear every visit was the last.

…until the next time.

Dean had lived all over, growing up. Cheap hotels and motels, trailer parks. And worse. Never knew what it was to settle and lay roots. Cas told Dean he'd been raised the polar opposite: huge family and one home his whole life. Until his folks had found out he liked dicks not chicks and tried to bible-bash it outta him, quite literally. Cas had left and never contacted them again, seeing as that's what they wanted. And as it turned out, being where he was now was better than being on the streets. But only barely, surely?

_Wow, really don't know why I'm telling you all this,_ he'd said to Dean after only the second time. _Maybe it's just those kind eyes?_ he'd smiled. _Anyway_ , _I'm sorry, you're not paying to hear about my screwed-up life in a sob-story… Want me to fuck you now, baby?_

Dean had never gone with a sex worker before. Hated the idea—not for him, exactly, but for them. The idea that some people thought they were worth so little that they'd sell themselves? It horrified him. But walking out that bar that night and seeing that dark, unruly hair and those blue, blue eyes heading straight towards him, coming for him...

_Hey, baby. Wanna spend the night with an angel?_

_No such thing,_ Dean had tried. But it had come out as a question, a challenge. An almost _Prove me wrong... please?_ And with a smile which he couldn't have helped if he'd tried.

The man—dressed in a long coat, black boots and tight jeans; dark kohl around blue eyes and an eight o'clock shadow Dean instantly craved to leave a tingle on his inside thighs—had smiled back and said, _That's your problem, beautiful. You have no faith._

By the time Dean had left the No-Tell room later that night—left _Jimmy,_ as he'd called himself back then—Dean was born again. His belief was now so strong, he'd gone back to his apartment and goddammit he'd _prayed._

But for the days that followed, the guilt was overwhelming. Dean had hoped beyond hope he'd be strong enough to stay away from the stranger he now wanted desperately to help; to somehow get away from this dangerous life, this mess Jimmy had gotten himself into... No, Dean told himself he wouldn't go back. It was wrong, on so many levels. Shit, he didn't even know the guy from Adam and yet, what, he wanted to _save_ him?

The insanity of Dean’s thoughts enabled him to keep his distance. And, for a while, he actually believed good sense had won out, for once.

...until the next time.

It was, of course, his weakness that won out. And after that second visit, Dean became fucking _devout._

Being with Jimmy _—_ with _Cas—_ very quickly became more than just a one-track thing. Maybe more than one-sided too. It became not only about sex, but tasting and exploring; about the devouring of the other; the holding out for one another; the _worshipping_ of each other... And had the tables now turned? Was Cas the angel he'd said he was and Dean the sinner? Was _he_ the one who needed saving? Regardless, for the two hours a week that he could barely afford, Dean was truly happy. Together, they'd seek out desires, turn each other inside out. Spend time just talking while tracing patterns on the skin of the other. Or work to tease the most desperate of keening sounds from each other. They’d fuck. They'd laugh. Get to know each other—and themselves. They’d spend time wishing they had more time… true for Dean, at least. As contradictory and ironic as the situation might seem—getting close to a sex worker—it really wasn’t. Cas was a person. A _good_ person. Somehow more human than Dean... and for Dean, being with Cas honest to God began to feel like some sort of holy experience. Dean would confess things to him; would decide to change after heeding his advice; was a better man when with him, wanted to do better _because_ of him. When with Cas, Dean felt more himself than he ever had. Just felt _more_.

And soon—inevitably—every time he'd leave Cas, it would be ten times harder than the last.

...until the next time.

The night Dean saw the bruises was the night he started thinking seriously about it.

_Doesn't usually happen,_ Cas had promised. Like it was nothing. Dean called bullshit, his voice tinged with anger. But he was mostly completely fucking heartbroken. Felt helpless.

Dean had to calm himself and make do with kissing each purpling mark with gentle lips. He stroked fingers through that untamable hair for an hour or more, humming Zep’s love songs as in-key as he could. Told Cas dumb jokes that Cas laughed at regardless. They huddled and watched shit TV together on Dean's phone for a while, Dean's arms protectively wrapped around Cas’ battered frame; Cas buried like broken bones in Dean.

Cas eventually told Dean he'd refused to fulfil some specific act. The disgruntled john had then complained to Cas' pimp, Naomi—who'd then gone about setting her muscle on him. _They were supposed to just scare me a little—well, a lot_ , Cas had smiled sadly. _Maybe swirlie me or choke me out, you know?_ They weren't supposed to beat him. To mark him. He'd admitted to Dean, _The clients don't like that_ — _well, most of them, anyways._ Some were sicker fucks than others. After ten months, Dean knew that all too well.

Soon after, Dean started working longer shifts at the restaurant, always asking for overtime. It meant they sometimes couldn't meet, or maybe only had an hour together instead of two, what with Cas' workload being not-exactly-flexible. It was tough. And maybe not just on Dean? Cas almost seemed disappointed whenever Dean told him he wouldn't be seeing him as usual. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Dean's part. He'd thought they'd had a connection but... Dean didn't have the words to ask. So, he'd just hoped Cas understood. He seemed to, mostly. But sometimes, he'd get that look in those baby-blues. The one that said, _you've lost faith in me, Dean_. And, at one point, Dean worried that none of this was going to work; that maybe he'd lost what little faith he'd had in himself; that Cas probably had no faith in Dean, to begin with.

...until the next time.

Dean wasn't sure if it had been a slip. An accidental admission. He'd been _so_ close, _so_ many times, to uttering the words himself. But he'd never imagined Cas letting his guard down in that way. And honestly? Dean had stopped allowing himself to think about the possibility of that being a reality. _God, I love you, Dean_ , he'd breathed quietly, just after they'd both come one night. And then Dean found that he couldn't breathe at all, all the air in his lungs leaving in a rush. Time stopped and for a moment everything was the way it should be. Just _them_ and _this_ … before Dean realised Cas probably just needed the money—wanted Dean to start coming back more regularly because he always tipped well. Dean treated Cas well, too, and what if all Cas' other regular clients were rougher, meaner? Dean knew they could be... Yeah, it was _these_ things. They were the real reason Cas had said what he'd said, not some accidental slip. But it didn't really matter, not to Dean. He'd already made up his mind. So he'd said nothing. Pretended he hadn't heard.

...until this time.

Dean packed up the few things he owned. He'd done enough saving now. Leaving all the crappy furniture he'd accumulated in the equally crappy apartment, he got in his car, drove away and didn't look back.

They made love because he knew it would probably be the last time. Dean savoured every second with Cas _._ Tried to memorize the line of his back, the softness of his lips and the hardness of all his pain. Tried to memorize the feel of each time Cas moved inside of him, whilst hoping his long licks and trembling bites, soft moans and desperate squeezes told Cas everything Dean knew he had to say to Cas, so maybe he wouldn't have to… but, as ethereal as his angel seemed, Cas couldn't read minds.

Dean dressed quickly. Then, after chewing at his bottom lip a moment, he blurted, _Can't do this, Cas,_ now unzipping the bag he'd brought with him he emptying its contents onto the bed.

Cas' eyes blew wide at the sight of all the bills that waterfalled from Dean's largest duffle.

_I can't let my decisions be controlled by some corrupt and humanity-lacking dick anymore,_ he said, referring to Cas' pimp. Cas was now just staring at Dean. Dean then said, _Cas, I'm leaving. And I ain't comin' back and..._ and he only stopped to take a breath, to steal his courage, because there was more to the speech but—

_It's okay, I was waiting for this; thought it was probably coming,_ Cas said flatly, cutting him off. Then, obviously unable to keep his cool, he spat, _But Jesus, Dean. Do you really think I want your fucking money?_ Cas laughed without an ounce of humour. _I was so foolish to think that maybe you... Look, just leave please, Dean. Leave and let me keep the ounce of dignity I'm managing to hang on to._ Cas turned away from Dean now. Wouldn't let him see those pretty blue eyes.

Then, Dean said what he'd come to say.

_No, Cas. I don't wanna leave this. I want you to come with me. I mean, I don't know where, but just wanna get you outta this. I want... I need_ —and Dean knew he had to do more. Say more. Cas needed the words neither had really spoken. Words either had rarely heard. And hell, Dean needed to say them _just_ as much.

Not able to look directly at the man who had become his whole world _—_ too scared _—_ Dean said, _I love you, Cas. Like nothin' else. And... and I know you only said it to me 'cause you thought you had to, to get me to stay. But it's okay. I don't mind that you don't. I just wanna… I gotta help you be safe, man. Gotta get you away from here. Please, let me do that? Then you can go wherever you like, do whatever you wanna and I'll—_

A small sob cut Dean's speech short. He looked up at Cas, terrified his words had maybe had the opposite of the intended effect… but Cas' tears weren't sad at all and he now flew at Dean and buried himself in him, speaking quiet _yes, yes_ , yeses, into the shoulder of Dean's leather jacket. _I never lied to you, Dean_ , Cas promised. And Dean believed him.

They left via the fire escape.

...it was the last time.

Dean drove them into and through the night and Cas gripped his free hand tightly, not letting go. Not even once.

After two more days on the road, when they were about to leave the state, Dean asked Cas, _Where to?_

Cas said, _Take me home_.

Unsure of what it meant but sure about this _—_ about them _—_ Dean asked _, Where is home, sweetheart?_ because Dean knew he'd do whatever it took to be with this man.

Cas looked out of the window for a moment and smiled. Then he laughed, gently, looked back at Dean and told him, _Anywhere you take me, baby._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm terribly disorganised and sometimes take ages to reply to any comments... but I ALWAYS do, eventually : )
> 
> Come find me on Dumblr: @all-or-nothing-baby
> 
> Lucy <3


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